Chapter 32: Lambert, Frontman and Firebrand

The trio made their way toward the mayor's manor, trying their best to keep a low profile in the process. Figuring it was best to disguise themselves, Sion donned a hat while Mia wrapped a cloth around her head and tied it under her nose. Sion, for his part, wore his new apparel well, but the same could not be said for Mia. On account of being rather nervous, her hands couldn't stop fidgeting and her eyes kept darting all over the place. If anything, her disguise made her more suspicious. The town happened to be preoccupied, however, and no one paid much attention to them.

Armed youths lined the streets. Their attire and armaments — a mishmash of all sorts of things — lacked the uniformity of a true army, but they all wore the same bright-eyed expression of excitement.

"The revolutionary army..."

At first, the sight evoked past memories, but she quickly noticed the difference between the army she remembered and the one she saw now. The eyes of these people glowed with the innocent enthusiasm of those attending a festival. They were not mired in the kind of hatred and menace that oozed outward, wrapping around her like invisible, bloodthirsty tendrils. These were not the empire's revolutionaries.

Roadside houses all had shuttered doors and windows, presumably an attempt to avoid getting mixed up in the ruckus, but there were no signs of robbery or ransacking. Though there was plenty of commotion, there wasn't any violence.

Which more or less matches our experience so far. That pair of kids were jerks, but I can't really see them killing anyone.

"Look over there. Those are our revolutionary comrades."

Lynsha pointed at a gathering of people. Those leaving the gathering held in their hands a strip of blue cloth.

"What are those?"

"They're a symbol of the revolution. Apparently, they're supposed to tie that around their heads. I think they call themselves the 'Blue Scarves' or something."

"The... Blue Scarves?" repeated Mia.

Hm, what an odd name. It almost sounds plagiarized. And for some reason, it makes me think of some weird cult with a creepy leader.

For a short moment, Mia's instincts spiked to peak performance, catching information that flowed from literally another dimension! The only problem was that this piece of hard-earned knowledge was entirely irrelevant to everyone in her world. Too bad for her.

The Diamond Legion sounds so much stronger.

"By the way," said Sion, "how much do these people know about us?"

"The more senior members have probably been informed, but I'm not sure about those people. It looks like they're just showing up after answering my brother's call."

"I see. Perfect. Let's blend in with them and hasten our pace."

Sion jogged over to the crowd and returned with a blue cloth.

"Here, Mia. You should put one on too."

"A-Are you sure about this?" she asked as she wrapped the blue cloth around her head like a bandana.

Once she was done, Lynsha looked her over and sighed.

"Well... I guess it's better than the one you were draping over your head."

The mayor's manor had an almost lavish air that resembled the dwellings of nobility. By the time they arrived, the commotion was already beginning to calm, and the large yard was steadily filling with blue bandana-ed men. Soon, a voice was heard above the din, speaking in a fashion that was meant to rile up their emotions. The voice came from a young man with brown hair who shared Lynsha's deep blue eyes, though his seemed almost glazed with euphoric zeal.

"The demand we make is nothing if not justified. Heavy taxes have caused us much hardship. We wish to speak. To have our suffering be heard. Old Dasayev is the one who gave us a voice, and we want him returned. That is all. However, the king and his government have turned a deaf ear to us. Does that sound reasonable to you? Should they be allowed to treat us with such contempt? No! And that is why we are rising up! The mayor had already fled with the guards before we surrounded the manor, ignoring our pleas and abandoning the very responsibility of governance."

His voice did not possess the velvet texture of a singer's, nor did it resonate with power as a guard captain's might. It had a very particular ebb and flow that imbued it with a charisma most often seen in politicians seeking to energize, or perhaps instigate, the masses to action.

"It is very unfortunate that we could not prevent the mayor's escape, but in return, we have gained control over the town without losing a single man. This is all thanks to you, my comrades. None of this would have been possible if you hadn't answered our call and lent us your strength. For that you have my deepest gratitude."

Roars of approval rose throughout the listening crowd of youths. Despite the fact that they hadn't even fought a battle, nevermind emerged victorious, their morale was extremely high.

"Ah... A compelling speaker," Sion commented. "More firebrand than frontman perhaps, with the way he stirs up emotions, but he plays both parts well. Is that your brother, Lynsha?"

His question was answered not by Lynsha but the speaker himself who looked in their direction.

"Hey, Lynsha. I didn't know you were coming."

"Lambert..." Lynsha murmured, meeting his gaze.

"Oh? I see you brought some kids with you. Who are they?" her brother asked as he glanced quizzically at her companions. "Might they be the kids Jem was talking about? The ones who are supposed to be a danger to the revolution?"

At his words, the whole crowd of people reached for their swords. Sion was about to respond in kind, but Lambert held up a hand to pacify his audience.

"Peace! We must show restraint, comrades, lest we debase the integrity of our voices, for who would lend an ear to the words of those who draw their swords on children?"

"I brought them here so you can hear what they have to say. Please, Lambert..." Lynsha implored. "Talk to them."

"Talk, you say?"

He gave Sion and Mia a scrutinizing look before the corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile.